Scent
by evitamockingbird
Summary: After recovering from the explosion, Mr. Carter returns to work and to Miss Galindo. A birthday gift for brenna-louise.
1. Return

**This is a three-part bit of fluff for anyone who, like me, is in denial of Mr. Carter's death and wishes for a romance between him and Miss Galindo. Birthday gift for brenna-louise. Happy birthday!  
**

 _All he could smell was blood – blood and death. He was sure that he was about to die. He gave his consent for Dr. Harrison to perform the operation, but he had no hope that he would survive the day. He was waiting for his fate to overtake him when Miss Galindo returned with the items he had requested. He dictated his will to her and watched her as she wrote. She was concentrating on her work, but her brow was furrowed and he was afraid he could detect that her eyes shone with a few unshed tears. She was made of stern stuff, however, and when she had finished, she smiled and dismissed his fears, although he could see that she feared the same, in spite of her words. When she took his hand to help him sign his name, she leaned close to him, and he noticed her scent, for the first time since he had known her. It was something light and pleasant, and it gave him a moment's respite from the other smells. The blood and death were still there, but they were moderated by her presence, her closeness. Once she had finished the document and witnessed his signature, she retreated to the next room, sparing him one backward glance before she joined Lady Ludlow. He wished they would not stay. The operation would be painful and he was sure to cry out in pain, the sound of which he would have spared those two worthy ladies if he could. And then news of his death, of which he felt certain, would reach them before anyone else knew of it. Mr. Carter finally closed his eyes and tried to clear his mind of those thoughts. Indeed, he tried not to think of anything at all, and soon enough he was in the surgery with something between his teeth and Mary Smith at his head trying to calm him. The pain was excruciating, worse than anything he could have possibly imagined. The last thing he remembered before losing consciousness was Miss Smith speaking some comforting words that he could not comprehend._

#####

Months later, Mr. Carter made his way to his office. He could not move as quickly as he used to, still learning to manage with a cane and prosthetic leg, but he felt fully alive for the first time since the day of the explosion. He was returning to his office at Hanbury and even though he anticipated a mountain of paperwork, he looked forward to the day. He was thankful to be alive. He would work and he would be himself again.

He wondered if _she_ would be in his office when he arrived. She had visited almost every day during his convalescence, in spite of the fact that he refused to allow any ladies into his sick room. The women of Cranford still visited his home, leaving tasty treats and their kind regards, but none were admitted to his room. His housekeeper was kept quite busy. Miss Galindo did not bring treats; instead she brought books. Most of them were from her personal collection, meant as a loan rather than a gift, but he was very grateful. She occasionally included a note, wishing him continued good health and improvement. The notes and books helped him pass that period of forced inaction a little more comfortably. And perhaps more importantly, they carried her scent. It was almost as though she were with him, except that she was silent. If she were really there, perhaps seated in the chair by his bed, she would have spoken. There were a few times, near the end of the time when he was confined, that he almost admitted her to his room, for the pleasure of hearing her voice; he was fully dressed, after all. But he decided against it, not wanting her to see him in his weakened state.

Mr. Carter reached his office, opened the door, and scanned the room. A gentleman must stand when a lady does, but Miss Galindo stood when he entered the room. She wore a brilliant smile and tears stood in her eyes. He could not help returning her smile, though he was sure his tentative grin was nothing near equal to hers; she was beautiful.

"Miss Galindo." He nodded.

"Welcome back, Mr. Carter," she greeted him softly. She seemed undecided as to whether she should approach him or stay behind her desk, but after a silence in which they just stood smiling at each other, she moved in his direction and held out her hand to him.

Mr. Carter shook her hand and held it a little longer than he thought he ought before releasing it. "Thank you, Miss Galindo. I am glad to be back."

"I am sure you are," she replied. "And I am also glad you have returned." She paused for a moment before murmuring, almost too softly for him to hear, "I have missed you."

He wasn't sure how to respond to her last comment, so he changed the subject. "Thank you for the books you lent me. I will bring the rest back to the office tomorrow."

"There is no hurry, Mr. Carter."

He had no answer and they stood as they were. The silence at first was comfortable, but after a while it became awkward. Miss Galindo cast about for something to say.

"I have tried to take care of some of your work while you were away from the office," she told him, returning to stand behind her desk. "I hope you will find my work satisfactory, but if you find anything amiss, please do let me know."

"May I see what you have been working on?" Mr. Carter asked.

"Of course," she replied, sitting down and beckoning him to come to her.

Mr. Carter stood just behind her, a little to one side, while Miss Galindo flipped through the well-organized papers on her desk. He noticed her intoxicating scent once more. It was not very strong, but this time it was not mingled with the smells of Dr. Harrison's surgery or just barely lingering among the pages of the books she left for him. Mr. Carter was glad Dr. Harrison had proved him wrong the day of the explosion. At first, he had been almost angry, thinking that living as a cripple would be worse than dying. However, if he had died that day, he would not be standing here, only inches away from her. And he was not entirely crippled - with a limp for the rest of his days but otherwise able to live a fairly normal life.

"I kept these accounts as best I could," Miss Galindo told him, pointing out her work in one of the ledgers. "I kept track of problems from the tenants as well. I did make an attempt to visit a few of them, but it did not go well."

"You went to visit tenants?" Mr. Carter asked incredulously. "Miss Galindo, you really should not have done so. Such dirty work is not fit for a lady."

"So Lady Ludlow's tenants told me," she answered in clipped tones. "They have no respect for a woman's intelligence. Every one of them refused to have any dealings with me, even though they knew this would mean waiting months for you to return and resolve their problems."

"I do not think anyone could doubt your intelligence, unless he were a simpleton himself."

Miss Galindo blushed slightly at his compliment, but refused to look up at him. "You did not always think so, Mr. Carter, and you are not a simpleton," she challenged.

Mr. Carter felt his irritation rise, but he resisted the temptation to engage in an argument with her. "I was a fool to doubt your abilities as a clerk, but you may be sure I never doubted your intelligence, even before Lady Ludlow gifted me with your services."

"Thank you," Miss Galindo replied quietly.

"Why will you not look at me?"

"My neck would become sore looking up at you, Mr. Carter," she answered briskly.

"Very well." Mr. Carter found a chair that he could lift with one hand, placed it next to her, and sat down. "I will sit, then."

Miss Galindo turned to him, her expression unreadable. "Is there something you need from me, sir?" she asked. Mr. Carter could sense some irritation in her voice.

"Nothing at the moment," he told her. "I am sure I will be glad if I may retain your services as my clerk, however."

She nodded. "You may."

"I will look over what you have done in the ledgers to reacquaint myself with what has been happening at Hanbury since I have been gone, but I am sure your work is impeccable."

Miss Galindo nodded her acknowledgment of his remark. Facing him as he sat right beside her, however, she could not prevent a small smile from replacing the wary expression she had been wearing, and she spoke spontaneously. "You cannot know how pleased I am that you are back at Hanbury, how grateful I am that your life was spared."

"Not as grateful as I, Miss Galindo," he replied gravely.

"Perhaps not," she conceded softly. "But very nearly so."

Then they were both silent, gazing, unmoving, into each other's eyes. Miss Galindo thought that she could very happily stay in this moment forever. She barely breathed, for fear that the spell might be broken. Mr. Carter felt an impulse to kiss her, but he knew that would not be right, so he simply remained still. If anyone should speak now, it must be him, but he found himself at a loss for words, at least for words that would not be improper or even offensive to Miss Galindo. After a while he spoke the most innocuous words he could call to mind.

"I missed Hanbury dreadfully while I was recuperating." Mr. Carter wondered if she would understand his meaning.

"And Hanbury missed you as well," Miss Galindo told him, smiling a little wider. "Nothing was the same without you."

"I think I know Hanbury well, but I do hope that in time I will acquaint myself even better with it, though it may take time." They were speaking in code now, and Mr. Carter hoped that they would not misunderstand one another.

"Mr. Carter, you may find that it will take much less time than you anticipate," she assured him breathlessly.

"I am glad to hear it." He broke away from her gaze and looked at her hand, resting on her skirts. After several moments of hesitation, he took it in his and looked back up at her.

"And I am glad to know that you understand me," Miss Galindo remarked, squeezing his hand lightly. "You may set whatever pace you wish, Mr. Carter."

In his heart he wanted to have the banns read the following Sunday, but she deserved a real courtship. He would not draw it out too long, but his wooing her just might be enjoyable to both of them. "Then perhaps you will allow me to drive you home this afternoon."

"Of course," she agreed. "If you have time or inclination, I invite you to stay for some tea when we arrive at my home."

"Thank you, Miss Galindo. I will certainly have both time and inclination to take tea with you. I accept your invitation."

"Excellent." She gave him such a smile that once more he almost kissed her, but he refrained. _Soon,_ he thought. _But not yet._

"Now let me take that ledger from you so that I may read through everything I have missed."

"Of course, Mr. Carter," Miss Galindo responded cheerfully, closing the ledger and handing it to him.

He squeezed her hand gently before letting it go and making his way to his own desk. When he reopened the ledger, a faint whisper of her scent floated up from the pages. Mr. Carter knew that it would either keep him working efficiently and lightheartedly throughout the morning or it would drive him to distraction, but he did not worry himself over it. He was happy and soon he was going to be even happier.

 _To be continued…_


	2. Courtship

Mr. Carter handed Miss Galindo down from the cart after he alighted in front of her shop. She unlocked the door and they went through to the parlor.

"I hope you won't mind waiting, Mr. Carter." Miss Galindo moved to leave the room. "Annie isn't here, so I'll be preparing the tea myself. But please make yourself comfortable." She gestured to the chair and settee before disappearing through the door.

Mr. Carter looked around the room briefly before taking a seat. He was still for a few moments before he began to drum his fingers on the arm of the chair. He was both nervous and overwhelmed. Her scent lingering in the room made him feel rather intoxicated, but the silence forced him to think. It had been so many years since he had courted a woman and he could barely remember what he ought to do. He could call to mind a variety of random images - sending flowers, drinking tea, being surrounded by chaperones - but he could not recall the proper order of these things. Mr. Carter was at least thankful that this time he could dispense with the chaperones; they could be quite tiresome. He did wonder a little at the fact that no one, aside of perhaps Mrs. Jamieson, would consider his taking tea with Miss Galindo alone in her home at all irregular, but he knew why. A woman of Miss Galindo's years was presumed not very interesting to eligible men, so it was her age that supposedly protected her from a man's advances. Mr. Carter certainly had no dishonorable designs on Miss Galindo, but he would be glad to be able to speak freely to her. He looked at the open door, impatient for her to appear and yet uncertain what he would say when she did.

At last Miss Galindo arrived with a tea tray. She prepared his tea just the way he liked it, which at first surprised Mr. Carter, but after a moment he understood. Miss Galindo was very observant - the sort of person who noticed every detail. She had never poured his tea, but she must have seen him prepare his own from time to time. He thanked her and took a sip. She made her own tea and sat down on the settee.

"I'm afraid I don't have much to offer in the way of refreshment," Miss Galindo told him. "It's just tea and shortbread this afternoon."

"I am sure we can enjoy a little chat just as easily over shortbread as over sandwiches and cake, Miss Galindo."

She smiled. "You are right, of course." She sipped her tea. "How do you feel, Mr. Carter?"

Mr. Carter grimaced. "I am perfectly well, Miss Galindo," he said, a little sharply.

Her eyebrows rose. "What on earth is the matter?"

"You needn't fuss over me. I don't need a mother hen."

Miss Galindo's smile had vanished. "I hardly think asking you how you feel can fairly be considered fussing. However, since you find it so exasperating, I will refrain in future from asking after your well-being." Her eyes challenged his. "How do you like the weather today, Mr. Carter?" she asked crisply.

"I really think you're overreacting, Miss Galindo. You speak as though you wish to provoke me," he answered irritably.

" _I_ provoke _you?_ " she asked in disbelief. "You've turned a simple inquiry into an irritant and I find that most unjust." Miss Galindo's lips pressed together into a firm line.

"You misunderstand me, Miss Galindo."

"Do I?" she replied. "Then please do explain what you really meant. I will not interrupt."

Mr. Carter fidgeted in his seat. He tried to decide how he would defend himself, but when he ran over the disagreement in his mind he could perceive that there was no defense for what he had said. He sighed. "There is no excuse, only explanation. I reacted poorly to your kindness and I am sorry. I hope you can forgive me, Miss Galindo."

She was frozen for a moment, taken aback by his retreat, but then she relaxed. "Of course I will. But do be aware, Mr. Carter, that expressions of concern for your health are not all spoken out of pity."

"Yes, of course," he agreed. "Had I thought a few moments before speaking, I would have realized that you would never speak so."

"You have been a solitary man for many years," Miss Galindo pointed out. "But you must learn to accept that there are those who care for you."

Mr. Carter did not speak; he only nodded, focused on her face as she spoke.

"I happen to know Captain Brown was a regular visitor to your sickroom. And your housekeeper led me to believe that the ladies of Cranford showered you with every treat imaginable. Would you reprimand any of them for their good wishes?"

"Please," he implored. "Do not go any further. I am sufficiently shamed."

"Mr. Carter, I am not attempting to shame you, but to point out that you have many friends," Miss Galindo told him gently, maintaining eye contact. "I hope you know that I am among them."

Mr. Carter rose from his chair and sat down beside her on the settee. All thoughts of a proper courtship flew from his mind as he took her hand. "You are magnificent," he told her softly. "Magnificent and kind, all at once."

Miss Galindo's eyes widened as she stared into his face, speechless, though only for a moment. "Oh my," she breathed. "I've just given you a good scolding and you tell me that I am magnificent?" She looked down at their joined hands. "Perhaps I ought to scold you more often."

"I don't think that will be necessary," Mr. Carter remarked. "You are not only magnificent when you scold, you know."

She looked back into his eyes and waited for him to speak.

"If you are to be my clerk, you may find me impertinent if I tell you each time I find you magnificent."

Miss Galindo smiled, her dimple showing.

"I would like the right to pay you all the compliments I like, all the compliments you deserve." Mr. Carter took a deep breath. "Miss Galindo, will you do me the honor of becoming my wife?"

Her eyes sparkled with happy tears, but she answered evenly. "I will, Mr. Carter."

"You are beautiful," he whispered, caressing her cheek.

Miss Galindo sighed and closed her eyes. Mr. Carter moved closer and leaned down to kiss her lips, thankful once again for the absence of chaperones.

 _To be continued..._


	3. Marriage

Miss Galindo was radiant as she made her way down the aisle toward her bridegroom. _Forty, if she's a day_ , some of the ladies had said of her, surprised or even shocked within their little worlds that a spinster of her age should be able to attract a husband. All in the church were silent now, however. It would have been impossible for anyone present to deny that a woman of forty years could look very handsome, indeed. The man waiting for her at the front of the church wore a smile not often seen in Cranford or Hanbury.

Lady Ludlow had insisted on hosting the wedding breakfast; both bride and groom were dear to her in their different ways, and she wished to make this joyful day a memorable one. The well wishes of the people of Cranford kept Mr. and Mrs. Carter apart for nearly the entire party, so they were glad when at last they made their departure. Their bags were packed and all arrangements made for a few days by the sea. It was nothing extraordinary, but it didn't need to be. They would be together, uninterrupted; that was the critical point. Mr. and Mrs. Carter waved to their guests as their carriage pulled away and they were on their way to a new adventure.

#####

"Do you ever wonder how things might have gone if the accident had never happened?" Mr. Carter asked his wife as they strolled along the boardwalk, arm in arm.

Mrs. Carter adjusted her parasol against the bright afternoon sun. "Sometimes," she replied. "Do you?"

"Not as much now as when it first happened. I had far too much time for thinking when I was confined to my bed."

"I hadn't your excuse, but I thought a great deal about it right after the accident," she admitted. "I will admit that I thought _more_ about what might have been if Dr. Harrison's operation had _not_ been successful."

Mr. Carter spoke softly. "I am ashamed to say that there were moments in the early days of my recovery when I wished it had not been."

Mrs. Carter slowed to a stop and looked gravely into her husband's face. "I had nightmares that you were dead, my love, and even when morning came I did not feel sure that you were alive. The most I could do was visit frequently with books for you to read. I knew you would not see me, but I reasoned that your housekeeper would not continue to receive my books and notes so calmly on your behalf if you were dead."

"Oh, my dear." He covered her hand with his. "I am so sorry. I would have spared you that, had it been possible."

Mrs. Carter blinked away tears and smiled. "What a pair we are, talking about such dreary things on our honeymoon! Do let us talk of something else."

"Anything you wish," Mr. Carter agreed. "But I do want you to know that you and Captain Brown kept me alive, more than anything or anyone else."

Mrs. Carter was much struck by his statement, though she tried to make light of it. "Certainly you are joking. I brought you nothing of practical use to a convalescent - not the smallest scrap of bread or bit of broth."

Mr. Carter shook his head. "I was never in danger of starvation, but my mind needed sustenance as much as my body. Captain Brown visited bearing tales from Mr. Dickens and from the ladies of Cranford. You sent me books that allowed me to escape to pleasanter places and your notes fed my spirit as much as bread or broth could ever feed a man's body."

"I am surprised, Mr. Carter, but glad that I could be of help."

"You also gave me a gift that none of the others could."

"Did I?" Mrs. Carter raised an eyebrow.

"Yes, you did," he told her. "Your scent. You left it on everything you brought. I first noticed it when you helped me sign my name on that dreadful day. I was sure I was going to die, but it comforted me all the same."

"Oh, my darling," she murmured.

"And it did the same when I received your notes."

"Did you never consider sending a reply to any of my messages?"

He smiled. "Yes, often, but I never could compose anything to my liking. Everything I wrote either said too little or far too much."

Mrs. Carter smiled brightly and started to walk again. "Well, now that you have married me, you will never again have to be concerned about saying too much."

"I beg you, Mrs. Carter, not to expect much eloquence of your plainspoken husband," Mr. Carter said solemnly, but with a distinctive twinkle in his eye.

"You underrate your own charms, my darling," she replied softly.

Mr. Carter flushed and was silent.

"You believe that because you are no great orator that nothing you say could be pleasing to me or anyone else."

"I believe it because it is true," he told her.

Mrs. Carter laughed. "Yesterday, in the church, you promised to be my husband. That is no small thing, especially to a woman so far past youth," she remarked in jest.

"As though I could prefer any woman to you, young or old."

She ignored him and continued. "The day you asked for my hand, you called me magnificent and beautiful. I assure you that no man has ever called me either of those things and from that day to this, the memory of your compliments never fails to render me a little breathless."

Again Mr. Carter was a bit embarrassed, though pleased by her words, and could not speak.

"I will speak no more of it, my dear, if it makes you uneasy. Shall we talk of something else? It is rather warm today."

"It _is_ quite warm," Mr. Carter agreed. "I think I am ready to go indoors for some refreshment, if that is agreeable to you."

"It is, Mr. Carter. I should like to have something to eat and drink."

"Very good." He steered her gently back in the direction of the inn.

"I should also like to call you by your Christian name and-"

"And to hear me tell you how lovely you are, in every way possible."

Mrs. Carter blushed. "Indeed! That is not what I was going to say, but you may tell me _that_ as often as you like."

"What _were_ you going to say?"

"It was about having something to eat, but I don't remember exactly," she replied breathlessly.

Mr. Carter bent to speak close to her ear. "Did you know, Laurentia, that before I met you, I didn't know that it was possible to be simultaneously provoked and enchanted by a woman?"

"How very flattering." Mrs. Carter was amused, though distracted by her husband's voice in her ear.

"Before I met you I didn't know that I would find a strong-willed woman so beguiling. And I didn't know it was possible for any woman to be as beautiful as you are."

"Mr. Carter, you exaggerate."

He leaned even closer to her ear and spoke again. "You are beautiful. You are magnificent. And you are my wife, whether I deserve you or not."

"I can't decide which of those three things is the most exciting," Mrs. Carter breathed.

"One of the first two, undoubtedly. I don't think you will find being my wife very exciting."

"Oh, but I already do. No doubt I am breaking some rule of genteel conduct in telling you so, but it is true."

"I think as long as we are alone, some rules of genteel conduct are of little importance."

"I think you must be right," she replied. "You are very handsome, you know."

"You are a biased observer," Mr. Carter pointed out. "I doubt anyone else would describe me that way."

"Does that matter?" Mrs. Carter asked.

He smiled. "No, I suppose not."

They walked on in silence, arm in arm, each lost in pleasant thought. Soon they reached the inn and went inside. On the way up to their rooms, they ordered food and drink to be brought to their private parlor. They made quick work of the refreshments and the sunny day beckoned them to walk out again, but before they could, a sudden downpour kept them inside. Under other circumstances, husband and wife both would have considered such weather a disappointment, but their time was not wasted. Most of it was spent seated on the settee in the parlor together, sharing quiet conversation and enjoying each other's company. They were on their honeymoon, after all. This time would never come again and they both meant to make the most of it.

 _The end._

 **Thank you for reading! Please leave a review if you can spare a few moments.  
**


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